<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Whisperweb: Jackal Pack by Lukra (49percentchanceofbees)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513224">The Whisperweb: Jackal Pack</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/Lukra'>Lukra (49percentchanceofbees)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Flight Rising</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:21:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/Lukra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the City Sidere, where the Starwood Strand meets the sea -- in the small and dark district known as Ravenbarrow -- you'll find the organization known as the Whisperweb ... but only if they want you to find them. Rarely on the right side of the law, the Whisperweb specializes in secrets -- keeping them, finding them, telling them, all for the right price. They do a little extortion too, on the side, a bit of thievery, but the Whisperweb's real strength lies in information.</p><p>Among the Whisperweb's many agents are Jackal Pack, a squad of fairly new and untried individuals, recently joined and often under duress. The Whisperweb could make their fortunes -- if they survive it.</p><p> </p><p><b>Flight Rising lorelocke!</b><br/>Links:<br/><a href="https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2908275">FR forum thread</a><br/><a href="https://the-city-sidere.tumblr.com/">my lore blog (ft. setting info)</a><br/><a href="https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2860071/1">lorelocke rules</a><br/><a href="https://www1.flightrising.com/lair/94713/1422406/1">the Whisperweb lair tab</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <ol>
<li><span> character building - negative, Rahman &amp; Ayers</span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rahman knew, logically, that he must have gotten his land legs by now; he’d been off his ship for days. But that didn’t stop his stomach from lurching, knees weak, as he moved through the world -- a world suddenly altered, torn apart and badly re-assembled from the bloody scraps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d visited Ravenbarrow before this, but not often, and never at night. He peered out a dirty window into the street, spotting furtive movements in the many shadows below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t do that,” said a bogsneak voice behind him. He turned to see one of his new partners. What was her name again? Ayers. “People around here don’t like being watched. Any business conducted on the streets of Ravenbarrow at night doesn’t bear looking into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” Rahman asked. “Dig up people’s dirty secrets? Steal the skeletons from their closets?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayers shrugged with an unpleasant little laugh. “If you can learn anything valuable from up here, you belong much higher in the ranks. Remember me on your way up, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rahman gave her a look that had once caused his crew to tremble in their boots. She barely seemed to notice. “I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause; Rahman dared to think that the conversation was over. But then Ayers said, “So you’re a boat man, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m a sailor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said.” Ayers leaned against the wall next to the window. She was quite tall for a bogsneak, lanky and lean. “How’s that going to help us? Think we’ll do a lot of boat stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rahman sighed. Ayers wasn’t the first to ask that question. He’d come to the Whisperweb bloodied and desperate, and they’d given him a chance, but he was on thin ice. If he didn’t prove himself useful … </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a bad hand with a sword or harpoon,” Rahman said, glancing at Ayers’ thin body. “You do a lot of heavy lifting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayers’ eyes narrowed. “So you’re the muscle. Guess that makes me the brains of this operation.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Rahman made a skeptical noise. He could have been more antagonistic -- the words “Hope not” came to mind -- but they did have to work together, didn’t they? Instead he said, “Brains and muscle, eh? Then what are the other two?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ayers shrugged. “Haven’t really talked to them yet. Pearlcatcher’s still working on dropping that Cabbage Park accent, so I think he’s out of his depth. Can’t get a bead on the tundra.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Rahman was out of his depth too. He turned back to the window, hoping Ayers would take this as an indication that the conversation was over. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Anyway, this one’s mine,” Ayers said, walking over to one of the room’s four old, creaky beds, a thin straw mattress sagging where the woven supports underneath had loosened. The Whisperweb had provided its new team with one room, rather small for four dragons, furnished only with the four beds and a small chest at the end of each. Each chest bore only the simplest of locks -- Rahman wouldn’t have trusted one with his valuables, but fortunately that wasn’t an issue, as he had nothing left worth stealing. Besides, he doubted even the most complex of locks would have kept the Whisperweb out of his possessions, if he had any.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ayers had picked one of the beds by the window, away from the door. She flopped down on it, leaning against the rickety headboard with her hands behind her head. Rahman could feel her eyes on him, but she didn’t speak again, and eventually he looked over to see that she’d fallen asleep fully clothed. She hadn’t even taken her shoes off.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was a long time before Rahman got to sleep himself. He knew what images would be waiting behind his eyelids when they finally sank closed, and he was right -- and dark dreams carried him long past dawn.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>2. character building - positive, Chalce &amp; Anaster</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how’d you end up here?” Chalce said, almost wincing as he finished, because he could hear how different he sounded from everyone around him -- it was in the way he pronounced his vowels, the slow way his voice meandered from syllable to syllable. It was how everyone sounded back in Cabbage Park, which was the worst part. That bogsneak, Ayers -- she’d heard two words out of his mouth and said, “Cabbage Park,” smirking as if she’d won some kind of game Chalce hadn’t known they were playing.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Is that what we’re doing?” Anaster was shorter than Chalce, yet somehow still managed to give the impression that he was looking down at him. “Swapping stories? This is the Whisperweb: information isn’t free.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sorry,” Chalce muttered, turning away -- and turning over the sounds of Anaster’s voice in his mind. He couldn’t place the tundra’s accent; Anaster didn’t seem to have one. Could Chalce speak like he did?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Swapping stories,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chalce mouthed to himself, trying to imitate how Anaster had said it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, wait,” Anaster said, his voice softening. Chalce turned back to see him wearing a conciliatory smile. It had the opposite effect, though: put Chalce’s guard up. No one else in Ravenbarrow had been nice; why should Anaster? “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> get to know each other. I just … don’t like talking about myself. Why don’t you tell me about you instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Information isn’t free,” Chalce retorted, trying to make his accent sound like Anaster’s. He was afraid it just sounded weird. “What are you offering?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anaster sighed, smiling ruefully. “I’ll buy you a drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Where?” They were hanging out downstairs in the tiny little lobby of the cheap boarding-house the Whisperweb had put them in. The other two had already gone upstairs to their quarters, but Chalce had hung back, wondering if Anaster’s lingering downstairs meant anything. He was a bit curious to see how the Whisperweb would house them, though -- the boarding-house might be cheap, but it was still better-built than anything in Cabbage Park. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There must be a tavern around here that we can reach without getting shanked in an alley.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t bet on it -- this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ravenbarrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anaster chuckled as if Chalce had made a joke, though he’d spoken only the truth. “Shall we go find out?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Chalce hesitated, not exactly enthusiastic about the idea, but if he went upstairs, he’d have to deal with Ayers again, and he already disliked her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cabbage Park</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They did not get shanked in an alley on their way to the nearest tavern, possibly because it was only two doors down, so they didn’t have to traverse any alleys to get there. It was a cheap place: the barkeep was surly and the drinks were terrible. Chalce found himself missing the signature sour, watery taste of Cabbage Park ale; Anaster took a sip, winced, and set his tankard aside.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So what brings you to the Whisperweb?” he said, speaking quietly despite the fact that the barkeep was the only other person in the room. Secrecy would become a habit for all of them soon enough, Chalce suspected, but Anaster seemed to have gotten a head start.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Chalce took a long moment to respond, trying to judge how much he should actually reveal about himself. He wanted to be cagey without downright refusing to answer, to appear sophisticated enough to subtly keep secrets -- and he had no experience with that. When the Whisperweb’s recruiters had confronted him with his thefts, he had stammered unconvincing denials without much hope of escape. If they’d been city guard instead of Ravenbarrowers, he’d be in a cell right now, and he assumed the drinks there were even worse.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Apparently my talents … came to the Whisperweb’s attention, and impressed them.” Yes, that was good.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anaster raised an eyebrow. “And what talents might those be?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m good at … finding things.” Chalce suspected that the meaningful pauses were not giving off the suavely mysterious impression he wanted, but he didn’t know how else to proceed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Finding things -- people? Information?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Objects of … value.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ah.” Anaster took another sip of his drink and winced again, more heavily this time, as if he’d forgotten how bad it tasted. “Objects that, perhaps, you might find locked away in some vault or secure storage where you just … stumble upon them? And </span>
  <em>
    <span>liberate</span>
  </em>
  <span> them?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Chalce nodded. Yes, Anaster got it. Nice meaningful pause, too.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I see.” Anaster smiled. “You must be pretty good at it, to draw the Whisperweb’s attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I am,” Chalce said, not without a certain note of pride. Stealing was the only talent anyone had ever recognized in him, the only thing anyone had ever told him he was good at. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Like Chalce, Anaster took a while to respond, fidgeting with his jewelry -- though he didn’t make the mistake of reaching for his drink again. “I’m an apothecary, or I was until I sold the shop a couple weeks ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What happened?” Chalce asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh, I needed a change.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Chalce stared at Anaster. “You needed a change, so you got out of the apothecary business and joined the Whisperweb? What does the Whisperweb even want with an apothecary?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anaster smiled. “Oh, I have all sorts of useful skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Like</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, you’ll be glad I’m around if anyone gets sick.” Anaster reached for his tankard, then put it back down without drinking. “I’m not just good at mixing herbs; I can bandage a wound or tend a fever in a pinch. And there are … other uses for mixed herbs, besides healing.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Another meaningful pause; now it was Chalce’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What, do you poison people?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>For a moment Anaster didn’t answer. Chalce leaned forward, eyes widening. “Is that why you had to sell your shop? Because you poisoned someone? Are you on the run?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, no.” Anaster waved a hand, smiling as if amused by Chalce’s runaway imagination -- though Chalce didn’t think it was so implausible, given their current location and situation. “There’s just a lot you can do with potions. Almost anything, really … almost.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Can you make this ale better?” Chalce asked. He swirled his tankard around only to find that the drink inside had congealed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anaster laughed. “Well, I did say </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: violence, death, decapitation</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <ol>
<li><span> challenge (fatal) - dragon vs. self, Chalce</span></li>
</ol>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Most business in Ravenbarrow happened at night; its inhabitants tended to sleep late. At least, that was what Ayers snapped out when Rahman and Anaster got up early and started making noise while she remained in bed. But soon after, as Chalce was putting his boots on, an urgent knock came at their door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ayers grumbled and sat up as Anaster opened the door -- and then a young pearlcatcher pushed past him, calling, “Chalce? Chalce?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chalce dropped his second boot. “Filmarya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other pearlcatcher ran to him and threw her arms around his neck; for a second Rahman thought she was trying to strangle him before he recognized a tight hug. In the second before she buried her face in Chalce’s shoulder Rahman registered how disheveled and wild-eyed she was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment she pulled away, her furious expression at odds with her previous embrace. “How could you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, what?” Chalce blinked, stared, and seemed to gather himself. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not stupid, Chalce. I knew the money wasn’t legal, but I didn’t think you’d do something like this.” Filmarya might have been small for a pearlcatcher, and wearing a pink dress with little flowers embroidered on the hem, but she had a very intimidating glare. “You can’t just move to Ravenbarrow! Do you know how dangerous -- if the law catches you -- and Mother would just die of shame -- ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing this for you,” Chalce said, helplessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m telling you to come home!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From her bed, Ayers clicked her tongue, reminding the two pearlcatchers that there were, in fact, other dragons in the room. “I wouldn’t recommend that. I got the impression that the Whisperweb doesn’t exactly do generous retirement packages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right.” Chalce’s eyes widened, fear sparking within. Filmarya, meanwhile, looked more puzzled than afraid; Rahman could see that the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whisperweb</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant nothing to her. She might have tracked Chalce to Ravenbarrow, but she knew little of its secrets. Chalce gripped her arms. “You can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, Fil, it’s too dangerous. You have to go home right now. I’ll walk you home, but then -- maybe I’ll be able to visit you, maybe I won’t, but it’s for your own safety. You can’t come here again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Filmarya shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here at all, and I’m not leaving unless you come home with me -- for good. The money doesn’t matter, the school doesn’t matter -- we just want you home. Mother’s heartbroken, after you left us with just a note, and it would be even worse if she knew you were out here living a life of crime. It would just kill her!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the background, Ayers snorted, probably at Filmarya’s somewhat maudlin phrasing. But the emotion behind her words was clearly genuine, and Chalce hesitated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t just leave, Fil. The people I’m involved with, they wouldn’t take that well. I didn’t come here because I wanted to, exactly; they said they’d call the guard if I refused.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Filmarya shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We can leave town, go into hiding -- I don’t care, as long as you’re with us, instead of off in Ravenbarrow, doing gods-know-what.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your school -- ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A laugh, high-pitched with stress. “I already quit school. I can’t keep going there on stolen tuition, anyway -- it’s not right. You can’t just take whatever you want. If -- if you don’t come with me, I’ll call the guard myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Chalce grabbed Filmarya’s shoulders, more roughly than he’d probably intended, and she looked at him in shock. “Fine, I’ll come with you -- ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s what I was waiting to hear.” The door opened again and in stepped a tall, skinny pearlcatcher with scaled arms, a mask over his face, and -- most significantly -- a large, well-used cleaver resting on his shoulder. Rahman knew him; he’d been there when Rahman had thrown himself on the Whisperweb’s mercy. His name was Talise, and he ranked considerably higher in the web than any of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chalce released his sister and stepped in front of her, putting himself between Filmarya and Talise as Talise crossed the room. Anaster made an abortive move forward, as if to intervene; Talise looked at him, and he settled back with a grimace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did a good job tracking your brother down,” Talise said, to Filmarya. “Or he did a bad job covering his tracks, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Why don’t you come work for us too? We always have use for a smart young thing like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Chalce breathed. He leaned forward. “Please, I only said I’d go to get rid of her -- ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would rather die,” Filmarya said, head tilted proudly upwards, “than become a filthy criminal like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talise shrugged. “OK.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chalce got between the first slash and Filmarya, and then stared at the bloody gash across his torso while Filmarya screamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How stupid,” Talise said, twirling the cleaver in his wrist -- sending droplets of blood sprinkling across Chalce’s bed. “That’s what we get for recruiting in Cabbage Park, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to kill them,” Anaster said, making a single step forward, while Filmarya held Chalce up, sobbing. He was still breathing, raggedly; still awake, even. “I think he’s learned his lesson -- I think they both have. They won’t cross you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you willing to guarantee that?” Talise said, sounding curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anaster looked the masked pearlcatcher in the eye. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh. OK.” Talise pointed his cleaver at Anaster. “Either of them step out of line again -- assuming the boy survives -- it’s your hide on the line along with theirs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Filmarya lowered Chalce to his bed and threw herself at Talise with a furious scream, magic pulsing around her hands, eyes sparking pink. Talise cut her down without hesitation; her head fell one way, her body another. Rahman saw red for a moment, nothing but red, and the whisper of a woman’s hair, and then when he came back to himself, Chalce was dead too: he’d tried to attack Talise as well. Not very effectively, Rahman suspected, given the shape he’d been in, but perhaps he considered such a death better than outliving his sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a waste.” Talise wiped his blade on Chalce’s bedding, then looked at Chalce’s former colleagues. Ayers looked queasy; Anaster wide-eyed but otherwise expressionless. Rahman would not venture to guess what expression he himself wore. “Well, I hope this has been an educational experience for you three. I’ll do you a favor and have your landlord clean up the mess.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>4. challenge (non-lethal) - dragon vs. self</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“We’re going to die,” Ayers said calmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Anaster gave her a somewhat sympathetic look, but his words weren’t exactly comforting: “Everyone dies eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Not everyone dies like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ayers snapped, gesturing at the rather dingy rug that Jackal Pack’s landlord had thrown over the stubborn bloodstain that wouldn’t come out of the floorboards. “It’s not just the threats; I was fine with those. Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I understood them. Territory is territory, power is power. Break the rules and the rules break you. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Another gesture at the bloodstain. “That’s different. Chalce didn’t die because he did something wrong; he died because Talise was on a power trip. And I don’t want to die to inflate someone’s ego.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“He and his sister attacked Talise,” Rahman rumbled. “You don’t think Talise had the right to strike back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Talise shouldn’t have even been here!” Ayers said. “We could have handled Filmarya; no one had to die -- ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Careful,” Anaster said quietly. “I don’t think you want to question Talise’s actions too loudly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Why, are you a nark?” Ayers demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“The walls are thin.” Anaster tilted his head down and to the left, in the direction of the stairs -- and their landlord’s quarters on the first floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers grimaced and lowered her voice. “Yes. Well. You’ll remember, Rahman, that Talise struck first -- because Filmarya refused to join the Web. That rings a bit close to home, if you’re not aware. But here’s the thing -- of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> she declined to join the Web on first pass. I wasn’t too thrilled when the idea was first presented to me, either. That didn’t mean she needed to die. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> recruiter would have talked her down, made clear the consequences of continuing to refuse -- used her safety to motivate Chalce, even. Instead Talise cost the Web two promising young members.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“He made an example of them,” Rahman suggested. “Keep making threats and at some point you’ve got to keep one, if you want anyone to take you seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“He didn’t even start with a threat -- one throwaway ‘I’d rather die’ and the blood’s already flowing! He was just looking for an excuse! And he had to have known that he was sinking Chalce’s career by killing his sister; one look at Chalce could tell you that he wasn’t hardened enough to keep going after that. I’ll remind you two that Chalce was a skilled thief, and probably more valuable to the Whisperweb than any of us, unless you’ve got some really nice credentials hidden under your beards.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Talise was needlessly brutal,” Anaster admitted, “but this is Ravenbarrow. I got the impression you were more familiar with it than either of us, Ayers -- what did you expect?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers looked back and forth between her companions and sighed. “Fine. Call me an idiot for expecting a little sympathy from either of you. Guess you’ll be like this when I die, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ayers,” Anaster said, softly. “It doesn’t serve any of us to get too attached to the others. I didn’t come here because I expected to get a long and healthy life out of it. I want to work with you -- I’ll protect you if I can, and mourn you if I can’t -- but all you’re doing by complaining is putting yourself in danger as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Squeaky wheel gets the hammer,” Rahman agreed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“And all the words in the world won’t bring Chalce back,” Anaster finished. “We have to focus on what we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> change: protecting ourselves. And that’s the same advice I’d give you if I’d been the one who’d died.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Comforting.” Ayers sat on her bed, shoulders drooping. She looked as if all the fight had drained out of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Come on,” Rahman said. “You didn’t even like Chalce.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No. I didn’t.” Ayers gathered herself. “That’s what he gets for being too green, I guess. Now if only I didn’t have these </span>
  <em>
    <span>green stripes</span>
  </em>
  <span> …”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Between the previous chapter and this one, I switched to using a Tarot deck to direct the plot and development of Jackal Pack rather than a d20.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>5. The Wheel of Fortune, upright</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are we all feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ayers and Rahman blinked at Gwendolyne, the Jackals’ handler, as she swept into their room. It had been ten days since Chalce died. Ayers couldn’t speak for the others, but she didn’t care for the question, or the cheery tone in which Gwendolyne offered it. She couldn’t complain, though; Chalce had already demonstrated the consequences of contradicting one’s superiors in the Web.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anaster reacted with more aplomb, fortunately, so Ayers didn’t have to force out a response. “We’re still reeling a bit, but we’re ready to serve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gwendolyne nodded, assuming an attitude of sympathy. “We’ve been trying to give you three a bit of a break after that unpleasant business, but it’s time to move on now. Fortunately, I’ve brought someone with me to help you do that. Come on in, Swift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skydancer who walked in wore a jaunty hat and a harp at her hip, so Ayers had a bad feeling that they were going to be subjected to music in the near future. The new girl smiled at the room, but there was something off about the smile; it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello. My name is Swift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swift will be joining your pack,” Gwendolyne said, unnecessarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, you can have Chalce’s bed.” Ayers knew that her harsh tone was unnecessary and unfair to Swift, who hadn’t done anything wrong -- and certainly Ayers didn’t envy her actually having to take the dead dragon’s spot. “Hope you don’t mind a little blood splatter. The landlord did their best, but I think it’s still going to smell when it gets hot this summer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a problem!” Swift said cheerfully, moving to sit down on Chalce’s bed. Well, that harp was made of bone, Ayers supposed; maybe she’d seen a bit more violence than the average musician.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I have a question, Gwendolyne,” Anaster said politely. Ayers turned to look sidelong at him, wondering if asking questions was a good idea. At this point, she barely dared speak to Gwendolyne at all.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ask away, sweetheart.” Gwendolyne’s sugary smile, and the endearment, made Ayers’s stomach turn.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you,” Anaster said, his voice carefully polite. “I wanted to know how independent we’re meant to be, actually, so that I can better serve the Web. We’ve been members for a while now, but we haven’t exactly received a lot of instructions -- I’d like to know if we should be going out and finding, say, valuable secrets, or if you’ll tell us where and when to look.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh, you are enthusiastic, aren’t you?” Gwendolyne gushed. “And clever!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anaster gave Gwendolyne a decidedly reserved look -- an expression, Ayers thought, rather like he had just bitten into something foul but didn’t want to offend the chef. But maybe Ayers was projecting. “That doesn’t answer my question.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“If you see any opportunity to benefit the Web, you’re more than welcome to take it,” Gwendolyne said. From her tone, the spiral hadn’t taken offense at Anaster’s prompting -- good. She might act all sweet, but Ayers knew Gwendolyne could be just as dangerous as Talise if she wanted to. “But we will, of course, provide you poor novices with further direction. I’ll have your first leads shortly, once we’ve given Swift a little time to settle in.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m good to go whenever,” said the skydancer, perking up at the mention of her name. “I look forward to getting started!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ayers and Rahman looked at Swift skeptically. Anaster, however, kept his focus on Gwendolyne. “We’ll await your orders, then. Anything else we should do in the meantime?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Gwendolyne offered another saccharine smile. “Nope! Enjoy your free time while you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ayers barely avoided biting back a scathing comment -- she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and probably never would be again, now that she’d gotten herself tangled in the Whisperweb. She could only hope that Gwendolyne hadn’t noticed the sour look on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if the spiral had picked up on anything, she chose not to make it an issue right now, just sweeping out of the room with a cheery “Ta-ta!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to get to know each other,” Swift said into the silence that Gwendolyne left behind. “Should we play a game? Truth or Dare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Ayers said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truths can be dangerous,” Rahman said, sounding even less thrilled with the idea than Ayers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And valuable,” Anaster said. “People here don’t usually give them away so freely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Swift looked between Ayers, Rahman, and Anaster. Her expression was oddly blank, as if she’d forgotten to express any emotion. “I didn’t know that. There are a lot of things I don’t know, I think. Can you teach me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can certainly try,” said Anaster, while Rahman and Ayers exchanged a worried look.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Not long after Gwendolyne left, Swift looked at the old bloodstain on the floor, then at her fellow Jackals. She wasn’t particularly good at reading others’ emotions, but even she could tell that the bogsneak simmered with anger and resentment, and she thought she should probably deal with that before it became an issue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Unfortunately, her way of dealing with that was to lay a hand on Ayers’ shoulder and cheerfully pipe, “Is something wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers glared at her. “Yes, something is wrong. Something has </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ayers, we already went over this,” said the tundra, pushing his hair out of his face. Judging by the hair’s sheer mass, this was an eternal task. “There’s nothing further we can do for Chalce -- even mourning him too much puts us in danger. And his death isn’t Swift’s fault. She doesn’t deserve for you to take it out on her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t disagree. Meanwhile, Swift parsed Anaster’s words and found one she didn’t understand. “Who’s Chalce?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“The dragon who used to sleep there,” Ayers said, jerking her head at Swift’s bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swift looked down at the bed, and at the tint of the floorboards underneath. “What happened to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guardian spoke up before the others could, in a heavy, deep voice: “He died.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t die,” Ayers said. Her voice was less deep, but similarly heavy. “He was murdered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People die when they’re murdered,” Rahman countered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was he your friend?” Swift said. She knew that people were sad when their friends died. Though she didn’t understand why that would make Ayers angry at her, when Swift had clearly had nothing to do with Chalce’s death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Ayers said, her voice harsh. “He was some Cabbage Park bumpkin with a bad accent and barely a thought in his head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anaster winced. “Let’s not speak ill of the dead. He was a good kid, and he certainly didn’t deserve what Talise did to him.” Then he turned to Swift. “But the reason Chalce’s death really bothers Ayers, you see, is because it could have been her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never would’ve been me,” Ayers snapped back. “I’m not stupid enough to raise a hand to Talise, and I don’t have a bleeding-heart sister come to track me down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you wish you did?” Anaster murmured, half to himself. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have family looking for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ayers stared at Anaster, her face written with a sort of shock that Swift couldn’t understand. Rahman, too, looked at the tundra with furrowed brow. Then Ayers’s surprise vanished and she was back to being prickly: “What, so I could end up like Chalce and his sister? Not likely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Anaster looked a bit startled to have Ayers reply -- as if he hadn’t realized she could hear him. Then this strangeness, too, passed from his face, and he said in a completely normal tone, “No, I suppose it wouldn’t go well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He turned to Swift and explained -- for which she was quite grateful -- “We all knew that we were expendable to the Whisperweb, but having one of their enforcers walk in and kill Chalce for so little reason -- oh, he had ‘cause,’ but it was barely more than an excuse -- proved just how expendable. It scares Ayers, to see how easily the Web could kill her, and she’s expressing that fear as anger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hey!” Ayers snarled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Meanwhile Swift said, “Oh! I see. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers got up in Anaster’s face. “What happened to the value of secrets? You can’t just put me on blast like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Anaster stepped back, appearing unbothered, her expression bland. “Swift asked for us to explain things to her. I was just trying to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers showed her sharp little bogsneak teeth. “And you lot </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> scared to know that the Web could cut you down for any little thing? For </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathing</span>
  </em>
  <span> disloyally?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No,” Anaster said, calmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No,” Rahman rumbled, little trace of emotion in his thunderous voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No,” said Swift, cheerfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ayers looked between them. “Well. Good for you, then.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>